


Daring Truths and Noisy Boners

by oohtheyhavenibbles (Alethiometric), orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boners, Crack, Crossdressing, Drinking Games, F/M, M/M, Pre-Slash, Public Nudity, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethiometric/pseuds/oohtheyhavenibbles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, John, Molly, and Lestrade go to Birmingham for a conference thing, and get so bored that they play "Truth or Dare?".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daring Truths and Noisy Boners

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anonymous prompt: "The Sherlock crew plays truth or dare? :D (not too explicit)".
> 
> By Ari, Rin, Nibbles, Shelby and Summer.
> 
> This one has taken us so long, because we were busy/sick/kept making it explicit before remembering that's not allowed this time. But it's done now! We hope you like it. 
> 
> We take crack requests/prompts! You can submit one to us at: consultingcrackaddicts.tumblr.com/ask  
> We'll post it on the blog and here on Ao3. :]

“Sherlock, shut up. I don’t want to have to find another hotel.” John said, like a pissy bitch.

He’d said this because Sherlock was pointing out all the weird shit in the lobby, and the hotel staff didn’t appreciate it. They were already on their third, because Sherlock kept deducing shit, calling the staff out on their weird private lives, and it had got them permanently banned. He thought it was hilarious - John, not so much.

They were in Birmingham for a weekend conference course on how to work alongside the police force. Molly and Lestrade had accompanied them (Lestrade representing New Scotland Yard), and as they had all travelled together, they were all staying together. (Hooray for a semi-plausible premise!)

“For Christ’s Sake, Sherlock.” Lestrade said, exasperated “Can you shut your fat mouth for two seconds?”

“No I can’t, Lestrade, you giant bowl of cum.” sassed Sherlock, because he has the temperament of a teenage girl.

He swished off to inspect a fake plant on the other side of the lobby. From it, he could tell that the bell boy had a cat toy fetish, but he didn’t say anything about it. Fuck those peasants, they could have their luggage handled by a catnip deviant if they were going to treat him like that.

 

Because Lestrade knew that Sherlock was annoying as shit, he’d had everyone leave early, allowing time for Holmesian shenanigans. As there were only a few (the incident involving the chewing gum and the washroom drier, the tendency to open the car door while on the motorway, and the desire to investigate the lack of Twix when they’d stopped at a Sainsbury’s), they’d arrived early. With much time to kill before dinner, they decided to go for a walk around the city (mostly so Sherlock would stop talking about how the room was probably covered in semen and blood residue).

They left their rooms and wandered down the street.  
“Wow,” Molly said, “Birmingham’s a bit shit?”

Lestrade laughed, and looked at her like she’d said something really funny and original. His wife had finally left him, and he was on a strict diet of random hookups in bars. Something about Molly Hooper made him feel a bit giddy. And a bit hard. But that might have been the memory of her in that black dress from Christmas.

Sherlock looked over at the detective, sighing audibly. He prepared himself for a night of stilted and second-hand-embarrassment inducing flirting. Whatever. Lestrade could get dat vagina if he wanted, It wasn’t like Sherlock gave two shits.

“Yeah, it is a bit dull, isn’t it?” said John. “I suppose we could go to a pub for a bit?”

“How plebeian.” Sherlock said under his breath.

“Yeah, I could do with a drink!” said Lestrade enthusiastically, looking to Molly for affirmation.

“Yes, that sounds lovely.” she said with a nod.

“I think I saw an alright one when we drove in.” said Lestrade, heading off down the street again, although this time with purpose and also desperation because if he swung things right, he could be looking at a naughty weekend away with one Ms. Molly Hooper. He was such a slut.

 

When they’d found a booth and had their booze in front of them, they just sat there awkwardly, avoiding each other’s gaze. Molly played with her coaster, while Lestrade looked longingly at her, because every second he wasn’t chatting her up was a second less spent in bed touching her boobies and stuff.

“Do, um, do you remember what happens at parties when things are awkward?” said Molly, looking up brightly at Lestrade, and then over to John.

“Play a drinking game, right?” John said with an amused smile.

“Yeah. And, I mean, I don’t think we should play a drinking game, but obviously we are drinking, but that doesn’t have to be part of the rules, we could just do that as a side activity, while we play the game? Which rules out most card games, and actually I don’t think I have cards anyway, so we could, I don’t know, play ‘Truth or Dare’ or, or something?” Molly said, in one breath, because she can’t speak coherently to save her life.

“Sure, that sounds fun!” said Lestrade.

“It sounds like the least fun thing to ever have existed,” said Sherlock, “In my experience, dare’s are childish and hold no merit, unless you count bragging to one’s peers about completely inconsequential things, which I don-”

“Sherlock!” John interrupted, looking incredulous.

Sherlock paused, looking at John with an intensity like a million campfires that you might roast marshmallows over, full of promising youth and burgeoning homosexuality.

“Um. Sorry,” he said, changing tack, “That sounds... fun.”

“Really.” said Molly, raising an eyebrow like “gurl u didn’t.”

“Yes.” Sherlock affirmed, looking at her, not telling the truth at all.

Molly side-eyed Sherlock like no other, while John kicked him under the table. John turned to Molly and said,

“Your idea Molly, you start.”

“Oh, okay,” She said, looking shocked, like she didn’t expect everyone to not want to start.

Simple, simple girl.

“Well, um. I guess... Greg. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth, Ms. Molly!” He said, trying to sound plucky so that she would want to bone him.

He could keep trying, to be honest.

“Alright. Um. How did you lose your virginity?”

The coy smiled dropped from Greg’s lips like woah, because what the fuck? What a starting question! Molly wasn’t fucking around, holy shit.

“Wow, no messing around huh!” He said.

She smiled sweetly, waiting for him to answer. John was laughing, while Sherlock looked ever-so-slightly amused. Greg folded his arms over himself, leaning onto the table top.

“Well, I guess. Gosh.” He looked up at Molly again, as if trying to figure out where she hid this brazen attitude.

“I was sixteen, and she was Sandra, a lovely blonde girl in my year at school. We were at a party. Drunk, of course. Um... It was a fairly standard first-shag. Messy, over too soon, etc. Not really that interesting.” He said, trailing off at the end, because what a fucking boring story.

“Oh, well that’s... Nice.” Molly said, because what else could you say to that weak shit.

“She did try to put her finger in my bum though.” Lestrade added.

“Omfg,” said Molly, “She sounds keen.”

She was a bit pissed actually. She wanted to put her fingers in Lestrade’s glorious booty.

“Okay, so my turn, yeah? I’ll go with... Sherlock,” Lestrade said, swinging his body towards the tall maniac, “Truth or Dare?”

Sherlock looked to Lestrade, ready to be intimidating and mysterious and shit.

“Truth.”

“Okay, good. Alright.” He didn’t want to say something shit, compared to Molly’s ‘fantastic’ opening.

“Who...” He started, dragging the question out like an awkward bitch, “Out of the three other people at the table, would you least like to be stuck in an elevator with, and why?” he finished triumphantly (not sure why though because that question doesn’t even involve sex, laaaame).

John looked him incredulously, as this was just inviting trouble.

“Lestrade you dumbfuck, that’s an incredibly stupid question.”

“Shut up, John,” Lestrade said defensively. “Your face is dumbfuck.”

“Both of you are childish,” Sherlock interrupted.

“Just answer the question, would you?” Lestrade said, looking to John, who rolled his eyes and picked up his drink.

Sherlock sat, thinking.

“John.”

The rest of them shat their pants in surprise. John looked up sharply, waiting for the explanation. Sherlock turned to look at him.

“Don’t take it personally, Joh-”

“I’m not,” John said, shaking his head like he was totally taking it personally, “I’m not. I get sick of you as much as you get sick of me. Whatever.” BITCH, cue z-snap formation.

Sherlock looked at him with poorly disguised longing, like he was an eight year old girl with an inappropriate crush on the student teacher.

“It’s just that we... Um. Any calmness you possessed could deteriorate quite rapidly.” He explained, not wanting to openly state that he would be nakedly rutting against John in two seconds flat if they were ever in that situation.

“I know, it’s fine.”

“Right.” Sherlock said, “Right. Uh, I suppose, Molly, would you like a truth or a dare?” he asked, turning to Molly, who was next to him.

“Dare, please!” She said brightly, her eyes twinkling with the promise of a challenge.

“Good,” said Sherlock, “I want you to sexually approach one of the other patrons - using only your hands.” Sherlock said quickly. Who knew he was a Truth or Dare slut.

Molly laughed, totally prepared. She slid out of the booth and scanned the room for a target. Bulls-eye, she thought, as she spied a sexy motherfucker. She phoofed her hair, hiked up her (fugly) skirt, and bitch walked like the sassiest sassy person on Sass Planet, over to her prey.

Sliding up behind him, she placed a hand delicately on the taught buttock, giving it a firm squeeze. Whoever this hunk of meat was, he turned and looked at her like “wtf” but more scary because, as it turns out, he was Sebastian Moran and no one touches his lovely butt (except for Moriarty shhh).

He raised an eyebrow at her and looked menacing, like a sexy army bear that was prepared to eat an entire person, and Molly obviously flipped. She gave that pert butt a quick pat and fucked off back to her seat, red faced and giggling. (Because butts r gr8) (Mmmmm. Butts).

“Ahhhh, he had such a nice bottom?” She squeaked. “Okay, seriously though now. John, Truth or Dare?”

“I think I’ll follow your example, Molly. Dare.”

“Okay.” She said, giggling, “I dare you to squeeze his butt too.”

Lestrade snorted into his rum and coke, while John looked blankly at Molly.

“Molly. He’ll snap me in half like a soft biscotti. Also, that’s gay. I’m not gay. I can’t.”

Sherlock cried internally at this because he wanted some of dat bootay.

“Are you saying you’re forfeiting?” Molly said, feigning innocence, like she didn’t have something devious planned.

“Uh... Yes. Yeah, I can’t do it.” John said.

“Well. Then you have to choose from the following options. Either remove an item of clothing and give it to a stranger. Or, you have to wear this for the rest of the game.”

Molly reached around behind, unclipping her bra, pulling it out from the front of her shirt, and holding it out towards John.

“...Under my clothes, right?” John asked hesitantly.

“Hahahhahahahahahaaaaaaaa, no.”

He hesitantly took the garment and fumbled with it for a moment.

“Molly, I don’t know how to put this on.”

Molly was like “bitch plz” so Lestrade leaned over and sexily did up the back for him, getting a bit hard over Molly’s warm lingerie under his hands.

John looked beautiful in the bra - pink polka dots on white, with lace over his striped woolen jumper. Sherlock had a boner for real.

So then John was like “Okay. Who’s next.”

Because Lestrade had laughed, John picked him.

“Truth.” Lestrade grumbled.

“What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever thought about anyone at the Scotland Yard.”

Lestrade turned red at the thought, and he began to graphically describe a scene involving handcuffs, donuts, and Anderson. It was so fucking weird that no one knew what to say. And then everyone at the table had a boner (Molly’s was the vagina version, obviously) and then John was questioning his sexuality like a rampant straight man who was not really that straight at all.

 

So everyone had finished their drinks, and they decided to secretly walk off the boners they all, and so they left the pub, continuing on down the streets of Birmingham.

“Sherlock, it’s your go.”

“Oh, are we still playing?” He said, losing track of what was going on because he was busy admiring John’s new bust, “Dare.”

Lestrade grinned over at Molly, who was trying not to look at any of the erections, and then lapsed into thought.

“How about... You call Anderson and apologize for being so mean to him all the time.”

“Fuck that shit. Forfeit please.” Sherlock said, without delay.

Not at all surprised, Lestrade had thought of a forfeit already.

“You can get in the river.” He said, “Naked.”

Sherlock paused like wtf, side-eyeing the shit out of Lestrade.

“Fine, when we get to one, I will.” he said, resigned. “John, you’re next.”

“Truth, this time please.”

“Have you ever had homosexual longings?” Sherlock asked, his stomach acid roiling with fear and whatnot.

What if John said no and didn’t want his penis and much as Sherlock wanted his, which was as much as a dog wants to drink out of a toilet, which is as much as the sea wants to exist and stuff, which is a lot? What would he do with his heart boner for John then?

John coughed.

“Um. Yes.”

And then went on to describe one truly erotic dream involving himself and “someone he knew”, which centered around a leather couch and a pair of pink bunny slippers. He refused to say who the dream was about (we all know it was Sherlock, obviously.)

(Sherlock was in the pink bunny slippers).

So then after everyone had got boners again (omg so many erections), they were finally at the river. Sherlock sighed, and then stripped down and dove in, like a graceful swan made of silk and also butter. He swam out to a bit that was deep enough to tread water in.

“How long do I have to stay in here?” He called back to shore.

“Six turns.” said John, blushing because he’d seen Sherlock’s half-hard penis and had liked it, yum.

While Sherlock was huffing about getting hypothermia or something, John turned to Molly.

“Your turn, slut.”

“What?”

“What?” John said, “It’s your turn?”

Molly looked at him suspiciously, like a cat looking at a box of cocaine.

“I’ll go with Dare again, please.” She said.

“I... dare you to tuck your skirt into your knickers and dance on the road.”

If John was completely honest, he expected Molly to wimp out and forfeit. He was planning on making her touch Lestrade’s junk, which is why he was totally shocked when she held his gaze and started tucking her god-awful skirt into her frilly pants (they matched her bra, she’s not a basic bitch). She marched purposefully to the middle of the road and began to do some jank ass boogie. She might have been gutsy, but graceful she was not.

John and Sherlock looked on, amused, while Lestrade tried (and failed) to hide his erection. After a minute John called out to her.

“Alright Molly, that’s enough. You were excellent.”

She laughed, and came back over to them, pulling her skirt down and giggling.

“I think Sherlock needs to go next.” She said.

“How am I meant to do it from the water?” He said, swimming around, with his head held up high so his hair didn’t get too wet, hahahahha, what a ponce.

“You can do a truth.” Molly said, looking at Sherlock like he can’t be that fucking clever if he has to ask.

“Alright then.”

“Right. What... Is the strangest thing you’ve ever masturbated with, and how good was it?” She asked.

Wow, Molly knew what she was doing, holy shit. What a bad bitch.

Sherlock looked uncomfortable (and wet, haha).

“Um. Once at university, I made a container of gelatin that was especially soft, but firm, and created a lot of (but not too much) friction, and wasn’t so sticky it would be weird feeling.”

They all looked at him like what in the ever-loving fuck?

“And, um. How did you use it?” Molly asked.

“I put my cock in it. It was hardly satisfactory.” Sherlock said, blushing despite his matter-of-fact tone.

In reality, he hadn’t been at university. He’d done this last month, and used the gelatin extremely effectively in John’s bed. But he wasn’t about to say that.

“Anyway. Lestrade, I think it’s your turn.” he said, changing the subject.

“Dare please.” said Lestrade, as he hadn’t done one yet, and he wanted to show Molly he had sufficiently large enough balls to follow one through without forfeiting.

Sherlock paddled around a bit, like a fluffy duck with a thinking cap on.

“I dare you to break a law.” He said.

Lestrade rolled his eyes. Molly laughed, but interjected.

“That could get him in too much trouble Sherlock. Automatic forfeit.”

“Fine then,” Sherlock said, sulking in the river, “He can wear your underpants over his clothes as well.”

Lestrade froze, looking at Sherlock with a look that plainly said “I will wade in there and drag you out, before whipping you half to death with my belt, which I will then shove up your arse and remove through the hole in your stomach which I will create when I disembowel you, you complete and utter cunt.” Obviously. What else could his look have said?

While his bitchy look was saying all of this, Molly was removing her knickers from underneath her skirt. She handed them to Lestrade, who looked like he came in his pants as he put them on.

They looked really good stretched tight over his obvious boner (which had sprung up again), and everyone pretended they didn’t notice but they totally did because it wasn’t exactly a trouser snake - more of a trouser python. Trouser tentacle-of-a-giant-squid.

It looked good under white and pink cotton (in Molly’s opinion).

Lestrade coughed.

“Right John. Your turn.” He said.

“Another Dare.”

“Okay. A Dare.” Lestrade stood, thinking, in all his Molly’s-knickers glory.

He looked fabulous.

“I dare you to... Kiss Sherlock.” He said, super-dooper proud of himself.

He shot Sherlock a filthy look, as this was his revenge for the panties. Sherlock was hidden in the water, afraid of looking at John because he wanted those sweet candy lips so badly, oh lord.

John was loling because obviously this would be nothing but platonic.

Hahahahahahhaa.

“Sherlock, can you come to the waters edge? I don’t want to come in.” he asked (hahaha, he totally wanted to “come in” if you know what I mean). (I mean in Sherlock’s butt). (Or his mouth).

He met Sherlock at the bank of the river and leaned down to kiss him. It was like something out of a romantic comedy, except there was no shitty music or slow motion. And no rain either. Or like, people cheering and shit. Nothing really note-worthy at all.

Okay, so it wasn’t anything like a romantic comedy, but the point is, John Watson’s warm mouth was on Sherlock’s moist one and they both secretly liked it and didn’t want to stop.

So then John was all blushing and whatever, and he goes like,

“Okay, shit, who’s turn now?” because he got so lost in Sherlock’s dreamy breath that he has no idea what’s going on. It smelled like milk and oranges. Om nom nom.

“Er. Molly, you can go again.” Lestrade said. Trying to not to show how flustered he was about that super hot man kiss that he just witnessed between John and that sexy bitch Sherlock. HOT MAN KISSES, YES.

“Huh, oh, right. My turn then.” Molly said clearing her throat because omg Hot Man Kisses temporarily stopped everyone’s brain, like a power outage caused by a power surge of penis love.

John noticed and was like, “OMG guys. I’m not GAY!”

“Whatever you say.” Molly replied. “My turn. I choose... Dare.”

“Alright,” said John, gearing up for some fun, “You can choose what you show, but you have to flash someone.”

Molly laughed, and then promptly lifted her shirt to show Lestrade her tits, and then Lestrade got a boner inside her panties for like the twelfth time that day.

So then everyone had seen everyone naked, and Molly was like,

“Sherlock, it’s been six turns now, you can get DA FUQ out the water.”

He clambered up the bank hiding his junk in his hands, looking like a wet dog. Which made John hard again, idk why, what a freaky pervert. He also didn’t really make an effort to avert his eyes as Sherlock pulled his clothes on over his wet body. He wanted an eyeful of dat diq, if you know what I mean (which I hope you do, because that was put pretty clearly).

“Well, I’m fucking freezing” said Shercock, pouting like he was entered in a toddler competition and was determined to win first place.

“Yeah, maybe the water wasn’t such a good idea. Should we head back to the hotel?” asked Molly.

“That sounds like a great idea!” yelled Lestrade (a bit too enthusiastically, because he was obv. trying to fuck Molly still).

So they all headed off in the general direction of their party-central headquarters.

“I think it’s my turn to choose now.” Said Molly, “Greg, you can go again.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him like an eager seal waiting to mate in the autumn or something.

“Truth.” he said, without a moment’s hesitation, nearly pissing himself as Molly fluttered her eyelashes at him (like a seal asking for it, etc).

“Well fuck, alright.” Molly said, trying to think of a truth because she had thought of a million but they weren’t good enough, as she kept getting distracted and thinking of dares so she could have a reason to touch Lestrade’s butt.

“What’s the weirdest thing you ever did with your wife - sexually or otherwise?” She finally asked.

“Well, my wife was never really seemed to be into the kinky shit.” he said, looking ponderous, “But there was this one time when we did it in the kitchen, and she picked up a carrot and just gave me the filthiest look you could imagine, before...”

Lestrade went on to outline exactly what happened with that carrot, but as this is not that kind of fic, we won’t being going into it.

“Holy... Fuck.” Said John, once Lestrade had finished.

“Yeah, but she never did it again. I think she did the dirty stuff with her lovers.” Lestrade said sadly, “Anyway. Sherlock, you can go next.” He said, wanting to change the subject.

“My clothes are soaked through and I am freezing cold, do you really think I want to keep playing this infantile game?” Sherlock said, getting shitty that John had seen his cold-water-shrunk dick.

“What crawled up your ass and died though?” asked Lestrade.

“Um, probably many different types of pond life, judging from the clarity of the water.” Sherlock said, only half sarcastic.

“Alright, fine. John, truth or dare?” Greg asked.

“TRUTH” yelled John over the sound of his boner.

Lestrade had to think for a second. He wanted to get back at Sherlock for making him look like a dummy in front of Molly, so he came up with a seriously devious question.

“Okay. One a scale of one to ten, how much did you enjoy kissing Sherlock, and would you like do it again?” Lestrade asked, because he is a bastard.

JOHN BLUSHED~

“Erm...” He didn’t know what to say, because secretly he had enjoyed it SO MUCH LIKE WOW and also he wanted to do it again and for even longer and when he was nakey too.

“Yeah. Um, yeah, it was... Good. I guess, objectively, a... an eight? I would say, maybe a nine? Which is... Quite enjoyable. And then I guess also I wouldn’t mind doing it again, I suppose, I mean, not that I’m gay because I’m not, I like ladies... too, so then, but I mean, I would also, probably, would like to do it again.” He said, with a cough.

Everyone stared at John. They all knew that Sherlock wanted him, but they hadn’t thought in a MILLION years that John would admit to wanting him too.

“Right, well we’re here.” John said, pointing to the classy ass hotel in front of them, trying to change the subject because his face was all red and Sherlock was looking at him funny.

“Yeah. Um, well, we’d better go and freshened up for dinner and stuff.” Said Molly.

Lestrade hoped that by “stuff” she meant sex (she totally did, but he wasn’t to know that - yet). John handed her bra back to her, and then she and Lestrade entered the building, him wearing more of her underwear then she was.

John and Sherlock were still standing on the pavement, surrounded by sexual tension so thick you could use it as a bathmat, or a sail in a yacht, or a hypothermia blanket - which Sherlock might need, actually.

“So Sherlock, just really quickly, truth or dare?”

And Sherlock, because he’s a smart cookie, said “Dare.”

And John was like, “Kiss me.”

So Sherlock did, and it was all very sexy. He was in his wet clothes, but John didn’t mind because they were coming off in five minutes anyway. Maybe John was a bit gay for men after all (fucking duh).

Then the kiss got hot and desperate, and a bit awkward because they wanted to get their hump on, but they couldn’t until they were in the privacy of their room.

Sherlock turned to John and was like “let’s go touch each other in naughty places,” or words to that effect (Okay, what he actually said was “Would you like to help me out of these wet clothes John?” all breathy in John’s ear and shit and everyone within five miles popped a stiffy because how could you not? But that’s besides the point).

Then everyone was in the hotel and dicks were put in special areas and it was great and the best weekend in Birmingham that anyone had ever had in the history of ever. They didn’t learn much at the conference though, because they were too busy skiving off and fucking in supply closets and stuff.

Fucking scoundrels.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated. :]
> 
> Info for requests/prompts can be found in the notes at the top.


End file.
